The Calm

  The sun had already started setting as Damian left the academy. The heat of the bright sun now began to die down as a cool wind began to mix with the humid air and the streets were bathed in the warm orange light of sunset.

  This was Damian’s favorite time of day, when the weight of classes and the judgment of his peers could finally fade away. Now, responsibility and expectations were the worry of another day’s Damian.

  So, as he stepped through the grand golden gates of Provedencia, the lingering tension in his chest loosened and melted into a quiet acceptance.

  The streets outside the campus were crowded with magicars and buses idling in neat rows. Parents waved down their children while others crammed into polished steel vehicles, bound for the city, or their further off homes beyond the skyline.

  Damian had no need for a ride home. His house was only an hour’s walk away, and he preferred it that way. The long walk gave him time to clear his head—to reflect, to dream.

  More often than not, he would drift into fantasies where magic obeyed his command, where he was no longer just another struggling student, but an Ace on a daring mission fighting an intense battle or enacting a high stake mission of his mind’s own making.

  He had grown to appreciate these walks as an escape—besides it wasn’t like there would ever be anyone to come pick him up anyway.

  There was a time when that wasn’t always the case.

  Back in his first year, before the war had begun, his father would sometimes find the time to meet him after school. Not always—he was still a busy man, even back then—but every other week or so, Damian would turn the corner and find him there, waiting just out of sight from the main crowd, so as not to make a scene.

  But that was before the war started.

  These days, his father was always stationed in some far-off corner of the continent, and showing up here would take more than just clearing a spot in his schedule.

  And yet, every time Damian rounded that corner, a small, foolish hope lingered that maybe—just maybe—he’d be there.

  Yet, to his surprise he turned the corner to see that the street wasn’t empty at all.

  Though, it wasn't his father there, either.

  Instead, right where his father used to wait, an old, beat up, blue magicar sat with its hood propped open. A young man hunched over the exposed engine, muttering obscenities as he fumbled with the machinery. And even at first glance Damian recognized something familiar about him.

  As Damian slowly walked closer, the man abruptly sensed his presence. He straightened, turned and suddenly, recognition clicked as a brown-haired, young officer, his uniform ruffled and streaked with soot, grinned a wide, friendly smile and waved a greasy hand at Damian.

  “Oh! Damian! Over here!”

  Damian’s cautious steps broke into an eager jog as the realization hit.

  “Dante? Dante, is that you? When did you get back? Did they finally give you some time off?”

  Dante chuckled. “Well, technically, I’m not on leave. General Salazar still has me running errands—just so happens they’re in the city for now.”

  He patted the side of his magicar. “I had to deliver something nearby and figured you’d be getting out around this time. Thought I’d swing by and give you a ride—catch up a little. This is still where your dad used to pick us up, right?”

  He glanced back at the open hood with a sigh. “Though… when I stopped, old Viejita gave out on me. Now I might be the one needing a ride if I can’t get this hunk of junk started.”

  “You still have this old thing? Don’t they pay you enough now to get a new magicar?”

  “Hey, I pulled her from the junk pile myself and worked a part-time job for months to get the replacement parts. She’ll run again—she’s just being a little temperamental because I was gone too long.”

  Dante reached for his slinger at his waist while rummaging through a leather sack on the other side. After a moment, he pulled out a spell cartridge and unceremoniously jammed it into place before leveling the weapon at the open engine compartment. His crystal pulsed with green light, and a series of runes flickered into existence, cycling as the spell charged with a hum.

  “Hold on—I’ve got one last trick up my sleeve.”

  “What are you doing? You have life magic. Are you going to jump start your magicar by rubbing together two sticks?” Damian quipped, before suddenly coming to a realization.

  “Wait… don’t tell me you actually finished it?”

  “Watch and be amazed.” Dante grinned as he leveled his slinger at the engine and fired.

  A small green light shot out onto the hood of the engine, flickering for a moment before dimming and settling into the form of an unassuming, small seed resting atop the engine.

  For a long, awkward moment, nothing happened as Damian looked on, almost about to question if it was working—

  But then the seed exploded!

  Vines unraveled in a sudden surge, creeping and twisting around the dead engine like living wires. They coiled tighter, gripping the machinery as two thick stems pushed upward from their center.

  The twin stalks grew rapidly, winding around each other in a tight spiral until the into a tight spiral. When they reached about a foot in height, they slowed to a stop, then unfurled a vibrant leaf at the end of both stems.

  He had seen plenty of Dante’s plant magic before; conjuring flora was practically second nature to him. Certainly nothing to consider amazing. But then—

  The leaves began to spin. Slow at first, then faster and faster, until it blurred into a spinning vortex. The entire plant seemed to be unraveling in a controlled yet violent spiral, its motion almost mechanical.

  Then—click.

  The spinning halted in an instant, all its pent-up energy converting into a surge of crackling electricity. Sparks raced along the twisting vines, coursing down their length before surging into the engine. A deep, guttural rumble echoed from the magicar as it sputtered, coughed, and then roared to life

  “There we go! She’s not dead yet!” Dante exclaimed proudly, as he began yanking the plant from the engine like a stubborn weed and tossing it aside. “C’mon, hop in.”

  “That was awesome! How’d you finally get it to work?” Damian asked as he threw his bag in the back and hopped into the passenger seat and.

  Dante slammed the engine compartment shut before sliding into the driver’s seat beside him. Hitting the pedal as the two pulled away.

  “You’d be surprised what you can do with Intelligence Corps resources,” he said with a proud, excited grin. “When I told the general about the spells I was working on, he actually took an interest. Got me access to some of the Research Corps’ specimens and notes from the Umaja Thunder Jungle—stuff I’d never have gotten my hands on otherwise. A few tweaks to what I already had, and boom—breakthrough!”

  Damian counted on his fingers. “So, you’ve got the oil-coated fire plants, the water-spitting ones, the spinning fan ones, and the rock… kind of.”

  Dante frowned. “What do you mean? My earth spells work fine.”

  “It wasn’t exactly a boulder. More like… a big chunk of tree.”

  “Hardened wood and bark can be nearly indistinguishable from stone if dense enough,” Dante defended.

  “Yeah, well, that still leaves you with two more magic types to figure out how to mimic.”

  “Well, for light magic, I already have a few prototype spells. I just wanted some notes from your dad, and I should be able to make them field-ready.”

  Dante took one hand off the steering wheel, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “Spirit magic is the real problem. I don’t even know where to start with that one. Not sure how plants could manipulate the spirit... though maybe I can find a workaround to get similar effects.”

  He broke from his thoughts, and turned to Damian expectantly. “How about you? Making good progress on your end?”

  Damian didn’t even need to answer. The way his excitement faded into shame as he slunk back into his seat said it all.

  “That bad, huh?”

  If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  “Worse,” Damian muttered. “I can’t even get Dad’s flicker spell working anymore—even after you helped me get it working before. I thought I atleast got the standard slug fire to work consistently without issues, but it literally blew up in my face today. In front of everyone!”

  “Really? Still?” Dante frowned. “I just don’t get it. It’s not like you have a bad grasp of arcane theory—I wouldn’t have finished half my spells without your suggestions.”

  “I don’t know anymore.” Damian sighed. “I was pretty sickly when I was little. Maybe I’ve got a bad magic gland or something.”

  Dante chuckled. “I don’t think that’s a thing.”

  “Yeah, well, it has to be something physical, because I’ve tried everything—practice, determination, focus, even ‘believing in myself.’” Damian said, making exaggerated air quotes. “I believed. I believed so hard. Nothing!”

  For a moment, Dante stared forward down the road, lost in thought.

  Then, he spoke.

  “You know, my magic is all about finding shortcuts. Hell, what is magic if not one big shortcut? I bet someone has made or discovered something to help stabilize magic. I mean, I’m sure I could dig something up in the Intelligence Corps archives. And even if it requires something that’s hard to get, I bet your dad could pull some strings.”

  That talk of shortcuts instantly reminded Damian of what Vera had said before.

  Could there really be something out there that could help him? Could it be sitting right there in his own home?

  Even if there was something that could help, he wouldn’t put it past his father to hide it from him.

  He felt like he was standing on the edge of a decision he’d regret. He wasn’t exactly a stickler for the rules, but if his father found out, he’d be disappointed. And in a way, that always made Damian feel worse than outright anger.

  As Damian contemplated, he slunk back into his seat and gazed out the window.

  It had been a long time since he’d been driven home along this road. So long that he’d almost forgotten how breathtaking the view was from the winding hills surrounding the city.

  From up here, Damian could take in Delrado in all its splendor.

  The capital city lay in the winding hills and valleys around the coast.

  Houses clung to the steep green hillsides, as they cascaded down the steep slopes in a vibrant array of colors. Rows of terracotta rooftops, sunbaked stucco walls, and walls painted with bright blues, reds, and oranges stacked upon one another. Concrete streets and narrow stairways winded through the dense hillside neighborhoods, weaving between balconies draped with laundry and concrete parks humming shouts and laughter.

  As the hills descended, the city expanded outward in an ever-growing maze of buildings. The further it stretched into the valley, the taller the buildings became, until they reached downtown where the towers towered high into the sky. Its busy streets, filled with shops, theaters, and bustling markets.

  Amongst the skyscrapers stood Seahorn’s Prism Ball Stadium, an immense oval of brick, its towering floodlights and scoreboards peeking above the skyline. Even from here, Damian swore he could hear the distant roar of the crowd.

  Yet all the city’s towers paled beneath the three-pronged Business Corps Headquarters, a monolith of steel and glass jutting into the skyline like a mighty trident. Watching over the moving trucks and ships below as shipments of spices, textiles, and industrial materials flowed through the streets and into the rest of Solar, or went out to the many nations abroad.

  The entire city flowed outward until it reached the lifeline of the sprawling metropolis: its shimmering coastline, where the city embraced the sea along a massive cape. The bustling seaports ran along the shore where fishing boats, massive freighters, and even one imposing steel leviathan lined the harbor, as many others sailed out to sea vanishing into the glittering waves.

  And high above it all, perched atop the steep coastal cliffs of the cape, stood Castle Centinel—the seat of power of the Solar Dominion and the same place Damian would be attending with his classmates come tomorrow night.

  Once a medieval stronghold meant to guard the once fledgling port town and its shores, the fortress-turned-palace still cast its watchful gaze over Delrado. Now serving as the decision making center of the entire nation, it was now far more than a simple castle. Its towering stone walls and gilded watchtowers bore banners emblazoned with the Solaran Sun, while the red and gold roofs of its central palace rose high into the sky behind its ramparts.

  But the true appeal of the view before Damian wasn’t just in the city itself—it was in the time.

  Just before the sun dipped below the ocean horizon, the entire city transformed. The golden light of sunset spilled over the rooftops, setting the terracotta tiles ablaze in warm hues, while gilded accents and glass spires sparkled with light. Even the sea joined the spectacle, its deep blue waves flickering with streaks of amber and gold.

  The people of Delrado had a name for this fleeting moment—The Golden Time.

  In these final minutes before dusk, as the city basked in the sun’s last embrace, it looked less like cement and steel and more like a dream of gold, glittering against the darkening sky.

  It was at this moment in which the city truly proved its nickname: The City of Gold.

  As Damian gazed at the shimmering cityscape before him, he felt himself sink into the moment. The weight of school, magic, and failure faded into the moment, reminiscing on the days riding down the road with his father, watching the city go by.

  He was so entranced, he had almost forgotten it wasn’t his father beside him.

  Turning to Dante, he caught the slight grin on his face—a grin that, for a brief moment, reminded him of his dad’s. The kind of quiet, content smile he rarely saw anymore.

  The thought stirred something inside him, and before he knew it, the words slipped out.

  “I think we got switched at birth.”

  Dante snorted a surprised laugh. “I’m two years older than you. I don’t think that’s possible.”

  “I’m serious,” Damian continued. “I’m nothing like my dad. But look at you—talented, smart, good at magic. Honestly, you even look like him more than I do. If anyone’s going to be the next Hero of Solar, it’s you. I don’t think I’ve even seen you scared before.”

  “Me? I’m not really Ace material. And trust me, there’s plenty I’m scared of. It’s just that there wasn’t much to be afraid of back at Providencia.”

  “Well, you never had to face down Vera,” Damian snorted. “But I’m serious. I’ve never seen you actually scared of something.”

  Dante leaned back, considering. “Well… I’m afraid of failing to meet expectations. Afraid of losing the people I—”

  “Not emotional crap,” Damian cut in. “I mean something real. Like me and ghosts. Something like that.”

  Dante gave the question more thought. “I mean, I’d be pretty scared to be in the way of a dreadnought or a leviathan, but…” His words trailed off.

  His warm smile faded, replaced by something more distant—more serious. The shift in his demeanor was so sudden it caught Damian off guard. As the last orange glow of dusk disappeared behind them, they entered the tunnel cutting through the hillside. The passing lights overhead cast flickering beams across Dante’s face, shifting between light and shadow, making his next words feel all the more heavier.

  “Well… what do you know about the Beasts of War?”

  Damian was caught off guard at first by Dante’s sudden shift in tone—he rarely took things very seriously. Still, Damian decided to humor another one of his impromptu quizzes.

  “About as much as anyone else, I guess. I’m sure everyone’s heard at least one of the fairy tales at some point. I probably have a couple about them in my old kids' books stashed away somewhere in the house. I know they were some sort of powerful demigod beasts from before the Emergence—supposedly sealed away a long time ago. And there were six of them, right? A dragon, a wolf, a tiger, an ape, a snake, I think, and—”

  “—A raven. The Scarred Raven,” Dante finished, his gaze still fixed straight ahead in contemplation. “What if I told you they actually exist?”

  Damian let out a nervous chuckle. “You’re kidding, right? I mean, in English class, our instructor said they were just analogies—representations of man’s ‘impossible struggle against nature’ or something like that. Even if they were real, they’d probably just be some big magical monsters. I doubt they’d be all that impressive against a modern mage soldier army.”

  Dante kept looking ahead, his tone shifting—he spoke less like he was talking to Damian and more like he was recalling something from memory.

  “Well, I’ve seen some things. Rumors and reports from across the ocean. Things far beyond the scale of any known weapon or spell. Massive cargo ships found frozen solid in icebergs, mountain-sized stone walls erected overnight, towering steel monsters draining the power from an entire city.”

  “Worse, lately, there’s been talk among our own men—claims that they’ve encountered something similar while fighting the Treviets. Sometimes, it’s the shadow of a massive bird in the clouds, tearing airobirds from the sky. Other times, they say they’ve seen a beaked man cloaked in shadow, cutting down entire platoons in one fell swoop.

  "But each time, they all describe the same thing—glowing purple eyes.

  And lately they’ve been calling it a different name. The Ace Killer.”

  “Ace Killer? You don’t mean… I know a couple of Aces who were reported KIA not that long ago—the Bronze Barricade and Sapphire Panther. But I thought that was just normal war stuff. It’s not like Aces are invincible. You hear about an Ace going down now and then."

  "Topaz Thunderbolt was reported dead just two days ago as well," Dante added. "And the reports tell a similar story. It almost seems like someone has been targeting Aces specifically."

  "What? Even the Thunderbolt? He was one of the old-school veterans! How’d they take him down?"

  "No one knows for sure. The top brass haven’t even made it public yet. They’re worried people will start panicking after hearing about three Aces going down in one month... And they probably don’t want anything ruining Reclamation Day."

  The two fell silent for a moment. Eventually, Damian voiced the question that was on both their minds.

  “Do you think it’ll try to go after Dad?”

  “What? No way.” Dante tried to laugh it off, but a twinge of worry betrayed him. “That would be a huge mistake. It’s one thing to take down Aces—but if anyone could kill a demi-god, it’d be a legend like your dad.”

  “Yeah, guess so...” Damian muttered.

  Dante finally seemed to realise the dour turn their conversation had taken and quickly tried to lighten the mood.

  “Sorry. We finally got to talk for the first time in months, and I had to go and make it all grim. Don’t worry, it’s probably nothing. The only reason I’m even telling you is because you’re the only one who’d humor my weird theories. My partner thinks I’m crazy—that it’s just soldiers’ superstition, born from the fog of war. Or at worse just some new group of special forces channelers.”

  The car finally emerged from the tunnel, sunlight flooding in as they entered a lush suburban district of Delrado.

  “Oh, looks like we’re almost at your place! It should be right around here, right?” Dante exclaimed as he made one last turn into a small cul-de-sac. The neighborhood was filled with a mix of surprisingly normal suburban houses. He pulled up in front of the gates of Damian’s home and unlocked the car door.

  Damian hopped out, grabbing his bag before turning back. “Want to come hang out for a bit? I’ve got some cool stuff I think you’ll really like to see.”

  “Sorry, but like I said, I’m still on the clock. It was just luck that I happened to be nearby and had a few minutes.” Dante gave an apologetic shrug. “Don’t worry, I’m due for some proper leave soon. I'll buy us tickets to go see the Seahorns play—just like old times, alright?”

  Damian was undoubtedly a bit disappointed. This sudden meeting had been a small ray of sunshine in what felt like a year of endless melancholy, but he did his best to hide it.

  “Yeah ok, you better keep your word.”

  “Of course. I’ll see you soon.”

  Damian waved as Dante pulled away from the curb with a friendly smile and wave, before disappearing out into the distance leaving Damian alone once again. He gave a shallow defeated sigh and turned to head inside.